A Rider at Last
by Heidioo
Summary: Based on a Forum on this site, this story documents my vision of how the Forum might proceed, and the future hatching of the dragon of my character. (One shot)


Disclaimer: The world of Alagaesia and the story therein belongs to Christopher Paolini. Andlat, Van, Balistia, and Celina belong to Fanfiction writer **Chortling Chester**. Rukk belongs to Fanfiction writer . Ingokn belongs to Fanfiction writer **Quintain Apprentince of Alduin**. Marian belongs to me.

This is not what will happen in the RP, just my take on a possible future for it.

It had been months since the Green egg hatched for Ingokn and since they slayed the Black King, and what seemed like an eternity since the Red egg had hatched for Murtagh after the Battle of Farthen Dur. Marian had decided to go off on a trek of her own, traveling for weeks on horseback. She was heading north, for what reason she knew not. She just felt called north, to the heights of the Spine.

She had finally reached it, and now here she was, within the mountain range she had wished to see. Thinking about the past year or two – she must be nearly seventeen by now... she had lost count, to be honest. Pulling out a small notebook and a charcoal pencil, the girl scribbled down some notes. She had been mapping the mountains as she clambered through them with her mount, whom she set free a few hours ago. He would rejoin her after he found his full of food.

"A sturdy horse if ever there was one," She said aloud as she scribbled her notes in a script none but she would understand. It was shorthand she had developed all those years ago, when that Herbalist in Teirm had pitied her and taken the child under her wing. Angela had pretty much raised Marian, and taught her all there was to being a herbalist. Well... not all. Magic hadn't been in Angela's lessons. That fateful spring day that Marian followed a limping stranger out of the city just after dawn... that day might just have altered her fate forever. For that limping stranger was no beggar, but a Rider.

Marian smiled as she thought of the woman who had introduced herself as Andlat. Of course, it had taken much persuasion to get the name out of the elf, but Marian had learned it, and the tale of how Andlat had been in the service of the black king, and she learned of how a dragon's fire had changed Andlat so much that she was able to escape the hold of Galbatorix... She smiled, thinking of the silly little dragon she had bet that day. No longer so small, she thought, envisioning Van in her mind. She loved that goof ball.

And then the two of them had returned from the Black King's Citadel right after the battle of Farthen Dur with the two free eggs and one hatched for Murtagh! Andlat was a hero! Oh, how the days had flown after that, as they traveled to Du Weldenvar-

Suddenly, she tripped over a root that was jutting further out of the ground than she had been expecting, but she managed to catch herself. Her notebook fell to the ground, and she knelt down to pick it up. It had fallen open to a short list.

Places to see if I ever get out of Teirm

Hadarac Desert

Beor Mountains

Du Weldenvarden

The Burning Plains

Uru'baen

Surda

Vroengard

Chuckling at it, she started to mentally cross off the rest of the entries. "Du Weldenvarden... went there after the battle of Farthen Dur... I can still picture the looks on Murtagh and Eragon's faces when they saw Glaedr and Oromis!" Of course, there were Celina and Balistia, but this was an ancient rider, the teacher of their own fathers! Of course, they didn't know that tiny detail, but it was still an awe inspiring moment. After all, Glaedr's golden scales were much more impressive than the brown scales of Malice!

The Burning Plains. What an insane battle. The death of the twins, the reunion of Eragon and his cousin... the marriage of Roran and Katrina... These events were burned in the young woman's mind.

Uru'baen was the next name on her list... it was no longer the citadel of the Black King. His death was the end of the time of hatred and terror. It was a good day when that had happened... but also a sad one. So many friends had died that day, people who didn't deserve to die.

Surda. Marian smiled, thinking of that silly old king of Surda, Orrin. She enjoyed hearing of his exploits into science, however eccentric they may be.

And last on the list. The Island of Vroengard. That had been an interesting journey. The discoveries they had made there astonished her. That so many eggs could still exist! And yet... none of them hatched for her.

She was disappointed, to tell the truth. What else could she say? She had been wishing for an egg ever since, well, ever since the green egg had "refused" to hatch for her. Here she was though, finding her own purpose. She was an explorer, going places no one would dare! She grinned lightly as she slipped the notebook back into her pack and stood again. As she stood, she saw something white in the leaves on the other side of the path. Stepping closer and kneeling, she brushed away the leaves and discovered a large... ball of hardened mud. Scraping away the mud with the flat of her hand, she revealed a white oval.

_ A dragon egg?_ She thought, confused. How had it gotten here? She shook her head momentarily, and continued cleaning it. As she brushed away the final bits of mud, Marian heard an odd little peep. Then there was a crack, as the egg began to shudder. Marian nearly dropped it, but she realized what it was. The egg... was hatching.

She sat back on her heels, watching it hatch with excitement growing in her chest.

As the hatchling peeked its head out from within the egg, Marian took a good look at it. It was white all over, except for two brilliantly blue eyes, and a blue star shape in the middle of its forehead. It was long and lithe, with small legs for its size. But the wings weren't small. They were folded up, but Marian could see that they were large – instinct, perhaps, or experience from seeing so many hatchlings already.

With fear in her heart, she reached forward to tentatively touch the hatchling's head with her right palm. Nothing happened. Her heart dropped. How could a dragon have hatched for her if it was not meant to be her dragon!

Suddenly, she felt a pressure against her mind – a wild force that was the dragon. She opened her mind to the hatchling, feeling it fill her every being and feed off her memories, feel all her experiences. She shrank back from the contact, which left her feeling like she had been branded with a million blazing coals. The sensation passed eventually, and she fell back. She looked at her right palm... and there it was, the Gedwey ignasia. The shining palm, right there on her hand... She was a rider.


End file.
